


Watercolor Heart

by monokowritesstuff



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Amnesia, Car Accidents, Established Relationship, M/M, Persona 5 Protagonist Has A Palace, alt title - how much guilt can aperson shove in a Yusuke before he breaks?, less shukita more Futaba and Yusuke trauma bonding, their friendship is important to me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:20:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21744418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monokowritesstuff/pseuds/monokowritesstuff
Summary: Things weren’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be him lying in that hospital bed. Not Akira, and his heart of gold. It wasn’t fair. It shouldn’t have ended up this way.Yusuke must come to terms with his guilt and his grief, or else he’ll lose the only man he’s ever loved.
Relationships: Kitagawa Yusuke/Kurusu Akira
Comments: 9
Kudos: 93





	1. Blotted

**Author's Note:**

> Jojo Brainrot is starting to set in for me, so I’m taking a big ol break from writing for that particular fandom so I can combat the writing atrophy it’s given me. In the meantime, I’m trying something new! This is my first Persona fanfic (I’m a newer fan :>) so please pardon me if the characterization is off.

“Don’t you see the beauty in it all? Look, Akira, at the way the traffic lights shift and shimmer, and make the cars act at their beck and call! There’s something so satisfying about the commanding visage of a stoplight.”

“Yeah, they’re nice, but be care—“

That was one of the last things that Yusuke had heard from Akira, for a while. Everything had happened so fast; the car turning the bend, the feeling of being pushed out of the way, the lights and noise and rush of the ambulance… all of that, finally culminating into seeing the love of his life lying comatose in a hospital bed for goodness knows how long. Needless to say, those were the most agonizing days of his life. There was something about seeing Akira bandaged up to the nines and hooked up to too many machines for comfort that broke something inside Yusuke. Things weren’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be him lying in that hospital bed. Not Akira, and his heart of gold. It wasn’t fair. It shouldn’t have ended up this way.

Even when he had come out of the bandages, come off some of the machines, the scars left behind on Akira’s face did nothing to ease Yusuke’s guilt. 

Internally, he had worked out a schedule: he would come to the hospital in the morning, ‘talk’ to Akira for a few hours, update the rest of the Phantom Thieves on his condition when they came in the afternoon, linger for a while with Futaba, and then leave with her in the evening, feeling unfulfilled and empty. He thanked his lucky stars it was summer vacation; he’d go mad from worry otherwise.

“Inari? How long have you been here?” like clockwork, Futaba lead the small caravan of six squeezing into the tiny hospital room, her cheerful spirit dampened by the dreary atmosphere. “How’s Akira?”

“The doctors say he should wake up some time today.” he dodged the first question with purpose. Answering loaded questions was not his forte. “I can’t say I’ve seen any signs of him stirring yet, but I have hope.”

“I really hope he’s gonna be okay…” Ann mused. “It’s been three days, right? That’s a long time, considering what happened.”

There was that phrasing again. Everyone talked about the incident as if it were some sort of curse. Something that needed to remain unnamed lest it claim them too. Yusuke knew why they did that; but he couldn’t be absolved of guilt. Not for this.

“Yo, Yusuke, you alright?” Ryuji’s hand on his back snapped him back to reality. “Y’seem kinda out of it.”

“I’m quite alright, I assure you. Just… concerned, as is everyone else.”

Yusuke could feel Futaba’s eyes on him, undoubtedly narrowed into an accusatory glare. Those looks had become just as routine as their visits, and yet they still sent chills down his spine. Did she know something that he didn’t? 

“Wait, I think he’s opening his eyes!” gasped Haru. “Look, everyone!”

The silence in the room was almost palpable as they watched Akira blink awake. He sat up with difficulty, either unaware of or uncaring about the seven pairs of eyes tracking his every movement. His own eyes were still slightly lidded and glazed over, as if he was trapped in a dreamworld of some sort. Akira glanced up at their expectant faces, confusion blanketing his features thickly.

“Who…?” his voice was naught but a raspy whisper. It made Yusuke’s breath catch in his chest with how similar it sounded to early morning Akira. “Who are you people?”

“That’s not funny, Akira…” Makoto bit her lip. “Don’t joke like that.”

“How do you know my name? Why… why are there so many of you?”

“We’re your friends, dude!” Ryuji scoffed, wagging his finger at him. “Y’know? The Phantom—“

“Not so loud, Ryuji! Are you trying to get us caught?!” 

As the other Thieves bickered amongst themselves, Yusuke studied Akira’s face and tried not to cry. He clearly had amnesia. How far back did he remember? If he had forgotten the Phantom Thieves, then surely he had forgotten him. 

“You guys are overwhelming him.” Futaba spoke up, hopping down from her perch on one of the tables in Akira’s room. “He just woke up, and he woke up with amnesia, at that. I’m sure he’s just as confused as you are.”

“Futaba? Is that you? Who are these other people? Where’s Sojiro?” Akira craned his neck anxiously to get a good look at her. “When can I go home?” 

“He remembers Sojiro-san! That’s good!” said Haru. “Maybe he can clear all this up?”

“It might not be that easy. And we don’t know how much he does or doesn’t remember. Inari, what do you think we should do?”

“W-What? I… I think we should just give him time. And space. He’ll remember us in time.”

“I think Yusuke’s right. He remembers Futaba and Boss, but… we can’t make his memories rush back all at once.” Ann pats Yusuke on his back, but the gesture feels hollow. “From now on, we’ll only visit one at a time, and always with one of those two. Sounds good?”

“That’s all good, but what about Mementos? ‘N stealing hearts? What are we going to do without our leader?” Ryuji turns away from Akira, heaving a sigh. “We can’t just stop, not with how much we’ve done.”

“We’ll have to make do.” said Makoto with a solemn sigh. “It’s all we can do, really, until Akira gets his senses back. For now, we should go home, process, and regroup tomorrow. Does that sound good?”

Eight 'yes's resounded through the room, and the caravan of six trooped out just as they had trooped in, leaving Futaba and Yusuke alone in the room (barring Akira’s gently snoozing presence, of course.) The silence was tangible, and Futaba was still staring at him in that strange way. Her gaze almost felt… pitying. As if she was to blame for this occurrence, and not him. Yusuke didn’t understand, however; why would Futaba, who hadn’t even been there when the incident happened, blame herself? Was his own guilt resonating so much that he was projecting onto other people? Or was she just trying to pity him for sympathy’s sake? He looked away from her with a bit of a pout, knowing full well that that wouldn’t save him.

“Don’t worry, I know you’re hurting bad.” she finally said, as if she had been reading his thoughts. “He’s sleeping, so we can talk about what happened without making him all upset. What’s got you all torn up, Inari?”

“It’s nothing. Should we not be returning home, soon? It’s getting to be quite late.” Yusuke faked the best smile he could, earning only an eye roll from Futaba.

“For someone who’s whole motif is a fox, you’re not very clever. I can tell there’s something wrong, so talk to me. I’d be a pretty garbage friend if I didn’t offer to help you with your problems.”

“Really, Futaba, I’m alright. I’m just… tired, I-”

“Don’t bullshit me, Inari. I know exactly what you’re going through, and the excuse you’re trying to pull. C’mon now, my codename is ‘Oracle’ for a reason. Not to mention I’ve… been through this before. You’re not leaving this room until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m just worried about Akira’s condition. I really should be getting home now, and so should you. We need to set off immediately or we will miss the train.”

Futaba looked him up and down but said nothing. The last few beams of evening sunlight made her hair glow like fire and her glare glitter like gemstones. An intense picture, to say the least. If it were in any other situation, any other time, Yusuke would have liked to paint that picture. But as of now, his artist’s spirit was broken. His muse had been stolen from him. There was no use to painting if he couldn’t paint the warm smiles he always so desperately craved. 

“I won’t push it, but just know I’m gonna be keepin’ an eye on you, Yusuke. I’ll get you to talk to me someday, mark my words.”

And with that, Futaba turned tail and left, leaving Yusuke alone with his thoughts and Akira. He gazed on his boyfriend’s sleeping face, and couldn’t help but tear up. He looked so peaceful, and it hurt, because Yusuke couldn’t reach out and be a part of that peace. Yusuke couldn’t gently caress Akira’s face while he was sleeping to wake him up. Yusuke couldn’t hold him close when the nightmares of the palaces became too much. Yusuke couldn’t watch his eyes light up at his presence when he woke up. They may as well have been two lifetimes apart, and it was all his fault. 

He had to get out. He’d suffocate otherwise. As Yusuke went to chase after Futaba, the soft click of the hospital room door behind him echoed in his mind, a beacon of finality. 


	2. Streaked

> **Ann:** You’re coming to the meeting, right?
> 
> **Ann:** Boss left the door unlocked when he left to go see Akira, but he told us to lock up when the last person got here. 

* * *

Yusuke stared at the message on his screen for a long time, a single question burning in his mind:

Would it be worth it to go?

After yesterday, he had gone back to his dorm and cried. No one would know that, of course, but that didn’t stop shame from cloaking his shoulders, nor did it wipe the memories from his mind. Nothing could ever get rid of those. And he was certain as to what the meeting would be about; they’d have to pick a temporary leader, and it would most likely be Makoto. She deserved the title. Makoto was dependable. Makoto was always put together. Yusuke wouldn’t say he envied her; rather, he craved to _be_ her. Makoto wasn’t falling apart like he was. None of them were.

* * *

> **A** **nn:** Yusuke?
> 
> **Ann:** Everything okay?
> 
> **Ann:** If you’re busy, I can leave you alone…
> 
> _No, no, that’s quite alright. I will do my best to attend today, however, I cannot make any promises. Thank you for your concern, however._
> 
> **Ann:** Oh, okay! :) 
> 
> **Ann:** We’ll lock up then. If you do come, text us!
> 
> **Ann:** Futaba says hi, btw

* * *

Yusuke started to type, but left the cursor blinking halfway through his message. There was no point in prolonging this charade, right? If he were to continue to front, he’d obviously be faking. Futaba would just have to save her hello for next time. He couldn’t bring himself to respond. Not that he could think of one, anyway; he was preoccupied with how he would move without the others. Surely, after Makoto was made leader, he’d be booted from the Thieves. After all, he was no better than a traitor, right? He had put them all in danger, inadvertently, by leading Akira into danger. A traitor in their midst was the last thing they needed. 

* * *

“And you’re sure he’s not coming, right?”

Makoto heaved a sigh and ran her fingers through her hair, taking one final peek at the stairs that lead down to Leblanc. Yusuke hadn’t shown up to their meeting. At all. She had expected him being late; in fact she had gone as far as to plan for it. But he didn’t show up, and it layered more stress onto her. Yusuke was never a no-show. Ever. It just wasn’t like him. 

“Mhm,” Ann looked up from her phone, a serious frown on her face. “He said he might come, but after that he stopped responding. Should I call him?”

“No, let's give him some space. I’m sure he’s stressed out about what happened.”

“He didn’t even respond to my ‘hi’?” Futaba groaned. “Laaaaaame. What do you think he’s up to?”

“I can’t say.” Makoto shuffled her notes in an attempt to qualm her worries. It didn’t work. “But I do believe we should get started. We’ve stalled enough.” 

The meeting carried on uneventfully, save for Futaba’s dour look. Makoto would catch her sneaking a glance at her phone almost every time she looked at her. She tried not to glare, but Futaba would glance away anyway, stowing it back into her pocket and folding her arms. None of the others seemed to notice, which drove Makoto crazy. First Yusuke was avoiding them all, and now Futaba was acting weird, and she was sure that Ann was staring at her, and—

“Makoto? We have a question.”

Haru was always the one to break her little mental tizzies. Makoto doesn’t know what she’d do without her. 

“Is it about what we just discussed? I zoned out. I’m sorry.”

Why did she admit that? Was her concentration really that lapsed? Now they were all staring at her. Great. She felt like a complete idiot.

“No, don’t worry about that.” Haru gave her a wide smile. “We were wondering what we should do, leader-wise, and… everyone wants you to do it.” 

“I don’t think I shoul—“

“We need your organization ‘n shit, Mako-chan.” challenged Ryuji. “You’re good at making decisions. It’ll only be for a lil bit.”

“Really, you guys, I’m flattered, but—“

“Don’t be a coward, Makoto.” Futaba grinned at her. “We need you, dude. You’re the only person put together enough.”

But was she? Was she really put together, or was she good at faking it? Makoto couldn’t take this kind of pressure. Being the lapdog of the student council was easy. All she had to do was follow orders, and keep secrets. Being her sister’s lapdog was even easier; she just needed to keep well out of the way. Leading a team, though? That was something completely different. She had to think for others, and not just for herself. They’d all be depending on her. One mistake could spell disaster. Maybe that’s why Yusuke didn’t want to come today. She didn’t blame him; having people depend on you was a huge task to undertake, especially in a time of emotional distress, and Makoto was sure as sugar that if he were here, they would have picked him instead. After all, he had all the qualities: smart, fearless, witty, and level-headed, Yusuke was a beacon of hope without even trying. 

All of them were, really. Haru was kind, Ryuji was bold, Ann was strong, Futaba was intelligent; even Morgana had something to offer in his knowledge of the cognitive world. But Makoto had nothing. Makoto _was_ nothing, save for a lucky coward. All she knew was running away and following orders. She couldn’t give them. She couldn’t accept this. She’d fail.

“I… I really shouldn’t, but… I suppose I can humor you all. But only until Akira is down for the count!”

A cheer resounded in the room, and it echoed in Makoto’s soul hollowly. They were cheering for a fraud. A complete, and utter fraud. Why did she do this to herself?

* * *

“Kid? You awake?”

Yusuke didn’t know how close to get. This particular visit felt fake, and he wasn’t sure whether it was because of himself, Akira’s amnesia, or Sojiro’s presence. Yusuke had run into him on his brisk walk to the train by pure chance, and despite his many refutations, ended up riding in his car to the hospital. They did manage to agree to Sojiro’s silence about Yusuke shirking today’s meeting, but that did nothing to relax him. He still felt like a complete traitor.

“Are those weird people with you today?” Akira’s voice was still hoarse and raw from a lack of use. “I hope not. All that noise gave me a headache.”

It still stung. Being labeled as “weird”, as a source of pain for Akira, stung Yusuke to his core. He was used to being seen as eccentric, yes, but Akira was the one person he could depend on to see him for what he really was. His lifeline. 

“No, the rest of your old friends are at Leblanc. Assuming you remember it, that is.” Sojiro must have sensed Yusuke’s dejection, as he slung a protective arm over the boy’s shoulders as he spoke. “I just brought Yusuke along today. Figured it would be good for you two to reconnect on your own terms.”

“...Yusuke.” Akira fumbled around his name. “Sounds nice. You’re friends with those guys, right?”

“Yes. We were all friends, at a time. In fact, _we_ were…” he glanced away. “Well, that isn’t important. How are you doing, physically?”

“Everything hurts like a bitch, but I’m alive, so. I guess that’s good.”

Yusuke nodded serenely, trying to control his wild emotions. It seemed like nothing had changed, but he knew better. He felt the force behind both their words, and the air in the room was so thick with awkwardness that he could drown in it. Saying it felt awful would be the understatement of the century. 

What felt worse, though, was the texts that he was pointedly ignoring from Futaba.

* * *

> **Futaba:** inari
> 
> **Futaba:** inariiiiii
> 
> **Futaba:** it’s so boring without you why didn’t you come today you lameo 
> 
> **Futaba:** but no really are you okay I’m concerned
> 
> **Futaba:** i can understand how you don’t wanna talk to the other nerds but at least talk to me 
> 
> **Futaba:** i kinda get what ur going through
> 
> **Futaba:** you can’t keep running forever yusuke
> 
> **Futaba:** gotta come to terms with what you’re feeling or you’ll end up like me
> 
> **Futaba:** makoto’s looking at me like I’m kicking puppies so I gotta go
> 
> **Futaba:** see you
> 
> **Futaba:** when you’re ready to talk, lemme know

* * *

She was right, and Yusuke hated that she was right. He could run as much as he wanted, but it would be pointless, in the end. Running wouldn’t make Akira remember him. But confrontation wasn’t his strong suit, especially not with someone like Futaba. She could be pretty headstrong at times, and Yusuke wasn’t fully sure that he was ready to deal with that. He’d have to confide in someone else first; someone who would just listen, and not try to advise. 

Haru. Haru was just who he needed.


	3. Thinned

"I appreciate you coming to me for advice, Yusuke, but I can't say I understand the need for secrecy?"

In hindsight, the conditions for their meeting were a little strange; Yusuke had asked her to meet him in a secluded area of a random park at an hour that nobody that they knew would be out on a Sunday, but that was only because he was trying to avoid the possibility of confrontation from any of the other Thieves.

"It's... for peace of mind. I apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused you." he said with a sigh, burying his face in his hands. "I did not know who else to turn to."

"It's okay, don't worry about the details. Tell me what's bothering you. I'll do my best to help." Haru gave him the warmest smile she could muster. "Is it about Akira?"

"...Yes, it is. I... I feel guilty, Haru. That is why I didn't come to the meeting, the other day. I couldn't bear to face you all after what had happened. I feel... I feel like a traitor."

Haru immediately drew him into a hug, causing him to tense up almost immediately. Eventually, though, he relaxed into her arms, his shoulders beginning to shake with the weight of his tears and his guilt. They remained like this for a while; with Yusuke trembling and sniffling and sobbing and Haru silently rubbing his back. It felt right and foreign all at the same time to him, being able to be vulnerable with another person for the first time in years; especially someone who he wasn’t normally close to on a regular basis. That wasn’t to say that him and Haru weren’t good friends; rather, they just didn’t have enough in common to warrant hanging out on a regular basis. Yusuke made a mental not to change that fact as soon as possible. He’d need her positivity now more than ever before.

"Why do you feel like a traitor, Yusuke? You haven't done anything wrong." her voice was quiet and level, even as she let him go. "We all understand that this is tough for you to deal with."

"If I hadn't been so careless, none of us would be caught in this compromising situation." Yusuke sighed. "It is due to my failings that things have come to this point."

"Oh, Yusuke... that's not it at all! It was an accident. None of us could have known that this would happen."

"I value your kindness, Haru, truly, I do, but... I... I do not know how to deal with these feelings. With the resentment and.. and contempt that I feel for myself. It is difficult, and I am sure it is dwarfed in comparison to the way you all feel."

"Yusuke..." Haru glanced at him with sad eyes; the same kind of glance one would give a child when they pitied them more than they desired to scold them. It hurt. It hurt worse than Futaba's icy glare in the hospital room. It wore down on him more than the disappointed curve of Sojiro's frown when he had confided in him about his avoidance of the meetings. It ate at him more than the vacant way Akira would squint at him, as if he could just make out what they used to be. Yusuke couldn't help but to look away helplessly. "Pain isn't on a scale. And it affects everyone differently. Your hurt will be different than my hurt, or Makoto's hurt, or Ryuji's hurt. That doesn't make what you're dealing with any less real or potent."

Haru hugged him again, taking a moment to ruffle his hair. Yusuke could see now why she was branded as the "team mom"; Haru had a sort of infallible kindness about her, even to those who deserved it least. She always found the best in every situation, and Yusuke found that fact both uplifting and discouraging all at once.

"Oh! While I have you here, there was something else I wanted to talk about." said Haru, eyes sparkling. "Something about Akira's condition seems a little weird to me. Like, the incident hurt him, yes, but enough to give him amnesia like that? It doesn't sit well with me."

"You believe there is another factor at play? Have you raised this concern to the others?"

"See, that's the thing. I don't want to cause unnecessary alarm over a strange theory. And my reasoning behind it is... half baked, at best. That's why I came to you first! I was sure that you'd listen to me."

"You have my attention. Please, share." Yusuke allowed Haru a hesitant smile. "You also have my word that none of the others will hear about this."

"I appreciate that, Yusuke. But, well... It's a little convoluted. Remember how Akira was telling us how when Mishima got a shadow in Mementos, the real Mishima started acting different? I think the same thing is happening to Akira. In a way. I-If that makes sense.”

"I'm not sure I follow... Elaborate, please?”

Haru glanced towards the ground, searching for an answer of some sort. Her eyes were scanning every brick of the paved path, darting around like she had to memorize every curve and break. It was fascinating to Yusuke.

"Like, ever since Akira got amnesia, he's been super cold towards us. Most people like that are just confused, and the coldness doesn't come until they're bothered enough. I just... I feel like it's unlike Akira to be so rough with us. Something else must be going on."

"Do you believe this only runs Mementos deep? Or does he have...?"

Yusuke saw Haru's face darken and a frown tug at her lips. Never a good sign. Smiles were what defined Haru; so seeing even the slightest twitch of a frown was a very jarring sight.

"I hate to say it, but... yes. Akira has to have a Palace. Mishima's distortion was brought on by stress, but Akira is suffering through more than that. His amnesia is keeping something locked up. I just wish I knew what it was."

"I see. This... this is quite the predicament. I find myself unsure as to what to do. We cannot just let Akira stay like this, especially if it is tied to his amnesia."

"Mhm. But I hate to think of what'll happen if we meddle for nothing. I want to bring this up to Makoto, seeing as she's the acting leader, but I don't want to do it alone."

Yusuke bit his lip at the confirmation of his worries. If she wasn't upset at him before, surely Makoto would be upset at him shirking an important meeting and coming back with an idea that was grasping at straws and smoke. Haru's expectant look didn't fortify his confidence, either. He wanted to help; in fact, he craved the ability to help. But his heart was torn up about this being the way to do it.

"May I have some time to think about it?" he finally said, unable to look her in the eyes again. "I'm just... I am unsure of my standing with the others right now. I'm sure I've already caused much unrest."

"I... I understand. Yes, I can at least give you that, after bending your ear about it." Haru's smile was sweet, but it barely touched her eyes. "Let's both think on it, and rally at a better time, mm?"

"I do believe that is the best course of action."

He felt bad. Haru was counting on him, and he disappointed her. What a good friend he was. Yusuke hung his head with a sigh, not wanting to leave with the feeling of dissatisfaction pooling in his gut. He had to stop being afraid. Akira's life could be at stake if he really did have a Palace, and Yusuke didn't want to be the reason why he lost it this time. Not again. Not _ever_ again.

"Let's do it, Haru." he said, standing and clenching his fist. "And if the others don't agree, then we take matters into our own hands. There's no use in waiting anymore."

"Now there's the Yusuke I know!" Haru jumped up with him, grabbing him by his waist and swinging him around with a considerable amount of strength. "We're gonna get Akira's memories back no matter what it takes! Noir and Fox are on the case!"

"Careful of your volume—"

Despite the millions of reasons this could go horribly wrong, Yusuke couldn't help but to be sucked into Haru's energy. It was positively infectious. She had a way of bringing light in the darkest of hours, and he was all the more grateful for it.

“Sorry, sorry— I’m just excited! And... I’m happy that you believe me.”

“You make a good case, so why wouldn’t I?”

Haru gave a chuckle and shook her head. “You’d be surprised. But, the next meeting is Thursday. Can I expect you there?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”


	4. Layered

With Thursday in the distance, an uncomfortable tightness had taken up residency in Yusuke's chest. He hadn't spoken to any of the other Thieves besides Haru; but they had been reaching out to him almost daily. How would he go about explaining these lapses in communication? Would they even take him and Haru seriously with these ages of radio silence? 

It wasn't like he wasn't doing anything better; just painting. Or, failing to do so, rather; in the midst of Akira's absence he had committed himself to a new piece, but it's success was... nonexistent. He had restarted a countless number of times, and yet he couldn't get to a foundation he was happy with. Yusuke was familiar with art block, intimate with it even, but he had never felt it like this before; like a literal blockade in his creative thoughts. 

The day before the meeting was one of his worst grapples with it; he had barely gotten past the sketch before throwing down his supplies in a fit of frustration. Yusuke had never done a piece where everything was completely and utterly wrong like this before. His pencil work was sloppy at best, and his inking even moreso. Watercolor wasn’t his usual medium, that was true, but this ran deeper than that. On one of his failed iterations, all it had done was bleed everywhere and make an absolute mess of his paper. On another, it shied away from the edges of his artwork completely, pooling up in the corners and stubbornly refusing to dry. It frustrated him so badly that he decided in a fit of indignance to turn in for the night. 

He found himself still laying awake three hours after that decision. Yusuke couldn’t bring himself to sleep, or to even try. So he stared at the ceiling, and the ceiling stared back (or, so it felt). And his thoughts set upon him like a pack of hungry animals. 

_‘What am I going to do?’_ His mind kept echoing this refrain, bouncing around like a DVD screensaver. _‘What am I going to do?’_

Haru was counting on him, and it was one of the worst mistakes she’s ever made. Yusuke couldn’t do this. He couldn’t face himself, let alone his friends. This wasn’t like mowing down shadows, or doing art, or finding the beauty of things. Those things were easy. This wasn’t. This felt like he was constantly drowning, and suffocating under the weight of his own hubris. 

* * *

> _Futaba?_
> 
> _Futaba, are you awake?_
> 
> _I need your guidance._
> 
> **Futaba:** So. You come to me in your hour of need, expecting me to-
> 
> **Futaba:** nah, I’m just kidding
> 
> Futaba: what’s bothering you, inari? being up at 3 in the morning isn’t usually your thing
> 
> _Sorry for any intrusion. This is going to eat me alive if I do not let it out to someone._
> 
> **Futaba:** ah you need someone to vent to gotcha
> 
> **Futaba:** spill it, inari. lemme know what’s on your mind.
> 
> _Don’t tell the others about this, but…_
> 
> _Haru and I came up with a theory, and we are supposed to present it tomorrow at the meeting._
> 
> _I won’t go into specifics, but it’s related to Akira._
> 
> _I was, and still am, all for the idea, but I am afraid of facing you all after all the things I’ve done._
> 
> **Futaba:** things youve done??
> 
> **Futaba:** as far as we’re concerned you didn’t do anything
> 
> **Futaba:** you’re just trying to cope. we get that. makoto especially.
> 
> **Futaba:** you’re doing the same thing i did when i was still coping with what happened with my mom
> 
> **Futaba:** that shutout and shutdown is normal
> 
> **Futaba:** we’re not mad, we’re worried
> 
> **Futaba:** so don’t be afraid to come talk to us.
> 
> **Futaba:** me especially
> 
> **Futaba:** stinky :p
> 
> _…_
> 
> _I’ve found myself laughing for the first time in a while._
> 
> _Thank you, Futaba. I appreciate you._
> 
> **Futaba:** its what im here for, dummy
> 
> **Futaba:** we’re friends. friends care about each other.

* * *

_‘We’re friends. Friends care about each other.’_

Futaba still considered him a friend. They _all_ still considered him a friend. They were _worried_ about him. Yusuke let out another small, happy chuckle, holding his phone to his chest like a teenage girl in a cheesy movie. Hearing that someone cared about him was always something that he valued, but he never knew it could feel so good. 

* * *

“If you all don’t mind, I believe we can get started. Welcome back, Yusuke. I hope you’ve been doing well?”

Futaba wasn’t paying one lick of attention to Makoto. She had her eye carefully (but subtly!) trained on Yusuke. He looked complacent at the moment, but how much of that was a show? He wasn’t good at hiding his emotions. Like, at all. So this must be genuine. But something about that smile felt nervous. And Futaba didn’t like it. Especially not after the conversation they had the previous night.

“I wouldn’t say well, but I have been surviving, and that is enough for me.” his laugh seems forced and stilted. Calculated, even. “I am sorry if my absence has caused any trouble or inconvenience.”

“We’re just glad you’re alright!” Ann did her subtle little hair twirl while she talked. Everything is normal so far. 

“Indeed, indeed. Um, Makoto, if you don’t mind, Yusuke and I would like to bring something to the group’s attention.” Haru stood and nodded at him. “It’s related to Akira.”

“Hmm? Yes, sure, I suppose that’s alright.” 

Futaba balked a little at this, flicking her gaze away from them both. They were really doing this, huh? What kind of crackpot scheme had the two of them cooked up? And what did it have to do with Akira? This could only end badly. 

“We’ve been doing some thinking, and we have reason to believe that Akira has a Palace.” 

The room went dead silent in an instant, which was unnatural for a Phantom Thieves meeting. The usual hum of side conversations that buzzed through the small attic had ceased, leaving nothing but the shocked gazes flitting about the room to fill the suffocating quiet. Makoto looked the most surprised at all, just for a second, but nobody else picked up on it except Futaba. Any change of expression besides her normally stern look was nothing but a little twitch, and something that Futaba cherished as something only she was privy to seeing. 

“What makes you guys think that?” Ryuji propped his feet on the table, a tic of his that annoyed Futaba to no end. “Seems like it’s comin’ out of the blue if you ask me.”

“I know it’s sudden, and we’re really sorry about that, but it’s a big concern.” Haru doesn’t back down. “I had been doing some thinking, and the story you all had told about Mishima and his shadow had come to mind. Akira is exhibiting that same behavior, but moreso. I have reason to suspect his amnesia is holding something back. Something that is distorting his heart and causing him to be cold towards us. Have you all not noticed this?”

“I get what you’re saying, I think.” Futaba leaned back in her chair. “Like when I had my palace, and all my memories were fucked because of it. You think the same thing’s happening with Akira?”

“Yes, that’s exactly it.” Yusuke nodded graciously in her direction. “It is only a theory so far, of course, but if we steal his heart it may serve as a cure for his amnesia.”

“While I do admit his condition and demeanour seem… unnatural,” Makoto stroked her chin with a sigh. “I feel like this is a big jump. How could we possibly go about proving this? And how would we go about the whole process of a change of heart?”

“That… is something we were still working on. We wanted to at least put the idea out there before we made any major plans.”

“I think it’s plausible.” Morgana piped up from his perch on the back of Ann’s chair. “It’s not unheard of for a persona user to lose their persona when their heart becomes distorted enough. I think we should at least give it a small investigation. Who knows what we’ll find.”

“We’ll vote on it. But before that, let’s work out the logistics. Futaba will obviously have to be our mole, but how will we get him talking?”

“Our teachers gave me the work that he’s missing to take to him while he’s in the hospital. Maybe that can be our bait?” Ann bit her lip. “It’s something to get him talking, at least…?”

“So you want me to run an errand for you under the guise of helping Akira? Shameless.” Futaba laughed, spinning in her chair. “I’m in. Akira is boring when he’s like this. I miss that ferality he had to him. And I’m sick of seeing Inari being all sad and pining.”

“I’m sure this vote will be nothing short of unanimous, but… All in favor of investigating to see if Akira has a palace, raise your hand high and say ‘aye’.”

“Absolutely.”

“Anything for my bro. Aye.”

“Aye!”

“Aye.”

“Aye-aye, sir.”

“Do I even have to say it? Aye!”

“Then it’s decided.” Makoto nodded, fervor staining her cheeks a light pink. “Tomorrow, we’re going to make our first move on the discovery of this supposed palace. Meeting adjourned.”


	5. Bled

Futaba was given explicit instructions the morning that their plans were put into action: have the MetaNav open but turned down low, keep Akira talking no matter what, and don’t begin navigation (if she actually got a hit) until she got back to the Thieves. It made her feel like she was on a stealth mission with no reset button, and that gave her a rush that she didn’t think she’d like as much as she did. Entering Akira’s hospital room only heightened that rush, and she could almost hear the objective markers tick off one by one.

He was awake when she walked in, an uneasy smile playing across his face. Futaba could feel herself break into a little cold sweat. The way Akira was looking at her unnerved her; like he was staring directly into her heart and sensing her intentions.

“Hey, Futaba. Come to visit?” Akira shifted a little, batting away the thin IV tube that was restricting his movements. 

“Yeah, but only for a little bit. Came to drop off some schoolwork for ya.” Futaba slid onto the windowsill, holding the papers close to her chest. “Still gotta be a responsible student, after all.”

“I guess, yeah. What class is it for? So I can gauge my dread level appropriately.”

“Literature. You guys are like, doing a barebones unit on Shakespeare or something. Whatever it is, it sounds boring.”

“Well, I dunno.” Akira chuckled and stretched a little, flicking a knowing gaze at Futaba. “I kinda like Shakespeare. I’ve always been a man of the theatre, y’know?”

A little chime sounded from Futaba’s pocket, indicating that it had got a hit. Internally, she was fist-bumping herself to the tune of Ode to Joy. 

“O-Oh! Wow, I’d never expected you to like stuff like that.” Futaba scrambled to check her phone and hand Akira his homework all at the same time. “You don’t seem like a secret nerd.”

“Yeah, a lot of people wouldn’t guess that about me. That could be my new title, honestly. ‘Akira Kurusu, Secret Nerd’. Now that’s comedy.” Akira chuckled. “Thanks, Futaba.”

Futaba attempted to smile but on the inside, her celebratory fist-bumping had turned into the cold feeling of dread pouring into her veins. She had heard a second ding, but there was no way she could stop the MetaNav without Akira finding out. She had failed the most important part.

“N-No prob! I, um, I have to go- Sojiro just sent me a text, and he’s worried about me getting home, sooo-”

The entire time she spoke, her mind was screaming at her not to get flustered; but in the end, this was a futile effort. She could feel her ears get red, and could tell without even looking at Akira that he was staring at her. Futaba gave him a shaky grin to stave off suspicion, but it only served to make his raised eyebrow cock up further.

“You alright? You seem all stressed out about something all of a sudden.”

“Y-Y-Yeah, I’m fine! I just- _really really gotta go now hope you’re doing better okay bye_ -!” 

And so, she fled. The door to Akira’s room barely closed shut behind Futaba before the world around her distorted into messy black and red swirls. She held her hand out to confirm she wasn’t dreaming, and sure enough, the familiar skintight black and green suit was beginning to cloak her arm. Shit.

The MetaNav had dropped her off in front of a grandiose theatre that screamed the 1930’s. The sky that served as its backdrop was a cloudy, muted red; like the sky was threatening to spill forth rain at any moment. The Palace itself looked slightly run down in places like it hadn’t been cared for in a long time, and there were two shadows standing guard in front of the doors, dressed like theatre ushers. The ticket box was seemingly empty, but posters with Akira’s face were plastered over almost every visible inch of the glass, so she couldn’t tell for sure. The whole thing felt like a dystopian novel come to life, from the cold stares of the guarding shadows to the posters just barely missing the mark of being propaganda. All of it felt wrong. Horribly wrong.

And yet, Futaba couldn’t help poking around just a little bit. She was the navigator, after all. A little recon never hurt anybody. The shadows weren’t really looking for her, and if she played her cards right, she could get the Thieves a headstart in this fight. The pros outweighed the cons by a long shot. She crept to the ticket box and hid in its shadow, which gave her the perfect vantage point to overhear a conversation between… herself and Akira’s shadow?

Well, not quite herself. They were both made out of what looked like paper, with Futaba’s doppelganger being a simple, double-sided sheet and Akira being something right out of a papercraft book. The other ‘her’ was almost a perfect copy, save for her eyes; they were a piercing, glowing yellow, just like the shadow before her. That and the markings on her suit emitted a sinister red light instead of the soft green of actual Futaba’s suit. Other Futaba (as she very ingeniously deemed her) was bickering with Shadow Akira from what she could make out.

“Honestly, Akira, what are we gonna do? This place is falling a-fucking-part! You’re not taking care of it like you should be. Idiot.”

“It’s fine.” Shadow Akira’s voice sent chills down her spine. It was just familiar enough to hit uncanny valley levels of scary, and the fact that she couldn’t see most of his face made it even more so. “We’re the only ones who live here anyway. I don’t get why you’re so concerned.”

“I’m concerned because that blonde dumbass got hurt yesterday!” Other Futaba’s reactions were almost comical. She had flipped around to reveal a pissed off expression, complete with little drawn bubbles of steam coming out of her nose. “I didn’t join this troop to get saddled with healing duty. For all that I may as well have stayed alone.”

Futaba let out a gasp at this, forgetting her surroundings for a moment. Her duplicate was nothing short of horrible. Is this what Akira really thought of her? She scoffed at the thought. She was blunt, yeah, but not  _ that _ blunt! She cared about the other Thieves, even if she had an unorthodox way of showing it.

Her train of thought was interrupted by two pairs of yellow eyes staring in her direction. In her lapse of judgement, she had almost gotten herself caught. Futaba slinked further back behind the ticket box, only to bump into another papery figure. Turning around in horror, she was met face to face with ‘Ryuji’. His eyes were yellow, and his face was curled into a sinister smirk. 

“Lookie here! And who might you be? You look a lot like Futaba, y’know? Almost had me fooled.” 

Futaba said nothing. She simply rose with as much grace as she could muster, and took off towards the gates back to the real world. Other Ryuji shouted after her, alerting Other Futaba and Shadow Akira, who then, in turn, alerted an ungodly amount of shadows. Their footfalls echoed in time with the pounding of her heart and the rush of blood in her ears. Futaba barely escaped their grasp, tumbling out of the Metaverse and into the bushes of the flowerpots outside the hospital. The other Thieves, the  _ real  _ Thieves were standing around her, with varying levels of confusion on their faces.

“Futaba? What are you doing? We texted you to get a read on how things were going but they didn’t go through, so we came to check things out.” Haru tilted her head. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“He’s got one-” Futaba gasped, fighting against the bushes she was tangled in. “He’s got a Palace- It’s a theatre, and it’s big and weird and me and Ryuji were there and-”

“Slow down, slow down.” Makoto knelt next to her, offering a hand to help pull her out. “Tell us what you saw.”

Futaba took her hand and pulled herself up and out, electing to sit sourly on the curb. Her arms were covered in scratches, and the other Thieves were looking at her like she was some sort of little kid. It pissed her off. 

“I got the codeword for Akira, and then I couldn’t stop the MetaNav. It took me to his palace, and it was this big theatre. There weren’t many shadows around, so I decided to take a look around, and I saw his shadow. I was trying to eavesdrop, but I got caught, and now I’m out here looking like an idiot.” she said, folding her arms with a sigh. “That place gave me the total creeps. It was straight out of an Orwell novel.”

“You went in by yourself?!” said Ann incredulously. “Futaba, you could have-”

“Let’s not scold her.” Yusuke held a hand up. “She’s probably shaken up by what happened to her. We got the information we needed, so we should consider this a success.”

Futaba shot a thankful glance at him before drawing her knees up to her chest. Makoto patted her back gently and turned to address the rest of the group. 

“I agree. We’ll need to talk about what happened, but not today. It’s been stressful for all of us, and that will only make things worse. Let’s split for now, and talk about it tomorrow. Can someone escort Futaba home? I don’t want her going by herself with how panicked she is.”

Futaba was more grateful for them at that moment than she had ever been before. Thank goodness Makoto could sense she felt like garbage. She wanted nothing more than to go home. 


	6. Spotted

Another day, another meeting, another hour and a half of sitting around and talking about things that were painfully obvious. It felt like the meetings never ended, nowadays. If Ryuji wasn’t in a meeting with the rest of the Thieves, he was in school or at home helping plan yet another one. 

It was all because of Makoto. He appreciated her meticulous work, but it got tiring after a while. The way he saw it, as long as they had the location and general idea of the place, they could clear it easy-peasy. The others, however, didn’t seem to share this opinion, based on how long they could keep chewing on the same, tired out facts.

“So, based on Futaba’s unintended stakeout, we’re dealing with not just a Shadow of Akira, but Shadows for herself and Ryuji at the least.” Makoto paced across the attic floor. “That could indicate the existence of Shadows for all of us.”

“I’m scared to know what that would look like, seeing as all three of us were a pack of douchebags,” sighed Futaba, leaning back in her chair. “If Akira sees Ryuji and I like that, I can only imagine what the rest of you are like.”

“But what if there isn’t? Then we’d be wasting our time…” Haru frowned and held her chin.

Ryuji had heard a lot about his Shadow self, but it didn’t satiate his desire to go and see him for himself. All the descriptions in the world couldn’t beat the feeling of seeing this asshole in person. Something about him was almost magnetic, and he hasn’t even met the guy yet.

“Look. I don’t think it matters if there’re Shadows for all of us,” he finally said, sick of the conversation running in circles. “It doesn’t matter if there’re Shadows for everyone in the world. Akira’s in danger, and sittin’ round and chattin’ the shit isn’t going to save him. We’re the Phantom Thieves. We act, no matter what. Right?”

All eyes in the room were trained on him, but Ryuji especially looked for Yusuke. He was playing for his sympathy more than anyone else's. Was it a dirty trick? Somewhat. But it was worth a shot if it meant no more sitting around and waiting for things to change. And to his glee, he’d gone for it. Ryuji could see the fire in Yusuke’s eyes. Exactly what he’d wanted.

“Y’know, I kinda agree,” Ann spoke up first. “It’s not like we haven’t dealt with surprises before. Besides, what kind of friends would we be if we didn’t give this our all? I know planning is important and stuff, but I’m itching to just jump in.”

“I too am waiting with bated breath.” Yusuke quietly mused. “Call me hasty if you’d like, but there’s a very strong urge within me to get this over with as soon as we possibly can.”

“I’m surprised that Ryuji was able to say something smart, for once,” Morgana said, shooting a smug glance in his direction. Stupid cat. “The longer we wait to change Akira’s heart, the harder it’ll get. And even if it doesn’t seem like it, I’m sure there’s a deadline of some sort.”

Everyone else nodded along, but Makoto still looked troubled. Ryuji wasn’t exactly shocked given her nature of being a stickler for protocol, but her furrowed brow and narrowed eyes still served as a deterrent for him speaking further. What was she so upset about? If there was any time that he wished he could jump into the head of another person, it was now. Still, she said nothing. Just stared. It was kinda freaky, how she could stare without breaking eye contact with a person.

“Mako-chan? What do you think?” Haru brought her into the conversation, despite her reluctance. 

“I… I’m unsure, but I’m sure that’s very obvious.” Makoto let out a nervous laugh. “I appreciate the tenacity you all have. Believe me, I do. But I also want this to go as smoothly as possible. I’m not… like Akira. I know. I tend to overthink. But I want to make sure we minimize risk and maximize reward because I care about you all and your safety as much as I care about changing Akira’s heart. But… if it’s in everyone’s best interest to just do it and do it well, then I suppose I can’t deny you all that.”

Everyone let out a collective sigh. Ryuji couldn’t blame her for worrying about that. He was flattered, even. He knew Makoto cared, but hearing her say it herself and in such a way had a way different impact on him than just the implicit knowledge. Little moments of humanity like this were rare and cherished. 

“Then we’ll give it our all!” Futaba pounded the table with a roar. “Inhibition be damned, amirite?!”

The Thieves all roared with her, a surge of energy taking up the entire room. It felt good. Really, really good. If this was the energy now, then surely exploring the palace would be a cinch. 

* * *

Of course, things were never that simple. The first day of exploration was hell.

Taking out the two shadows standing guard out front was almost too easy; they were low-level cronies who didn’t put up much of a fight even to the bitter end. Trying to get anywhere after slipping past the doors, however, was a different story. The theatre was much, much bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside, and calling it rundown was an  _ understatement _ . Most of the floorboards had rotted away, leaving huge gaps in the floor that required too many acrobatics to even look at, the light fixtures on the ceiling were hanging on by threads, and the few entrances that had actual doors were faded and scarred with scratches from goodness knows what. If the outside was dystopian, then the inside was nothing short of a haunted house. Ryuji hated to admit it, but the freezer-burn feeling of fear was coursing through him at the very sight of it. 

“This is ridiculous,” Haru groaned at the sight of things. “We were all so worried about our Shadows that we didn’t even bother thinking about what things would be like inside.”

“Well, at least we haven’t encountered them yet.” Makoto patted her back. “Maybe the state of the theatre is keeping them at bay as much as-”

“Welcome, Phantom Phonies! We’ve been expecting you.”

A voice boomed from overhead, cueing all the Thieves to look up at once. Shadow Akira was sitting on the exposed rafters, with the Other Thieves flanking him to the left and right. The flickering light fixtures below shrouded them in shadows, making their eyes look all the more luminescent; and just as Futaba had said, they were all flat as paper.

“They look like a bunch of owls,” Futaba muttered bitterly. “Hoot hoot, assholes.”

“It seems to me that you all are under the impression that trespassing is acceptable in today’s society,” Shadow Akira snickered. “Not that I’m surprised, of course. Regardless, again, a warm welcome to you! Aren’t we so gracious, Thieves, as to host these lot despite their transgressions?”

“That we are, Akirara!” Other Ann was sickly sweet with an outfit to match. Her normal catsuit was now a bright, neon pink and covered from head to toe with garish pink tassels and bells; not to mention the obnoxious slits in the sides of the legs that left little to the imagination. “These guys should be like, totally grateful!”

“Grateful is an understatement. It’s against our code and protocol to allow outsiders into the theatre. Allowing this to happen is the real transgression.” Other Makoto grumbled. If Other Ann was sickly sweet, then she was sharply severe. Her outfit was a badge short of a general’s uniform; with epaulettes that took up most of her shoulders and buttons all the way up to her chin. Her trademark scarf was gone, but her brass knuckles were still in place and sharpened to the nines.

The color drained from Ann and Makoto’s faces quickly, leaving them pale with anger. Ryuji had to grab Ann’s arm to prevent her from tearing them to pieces with her whip, which prompted Haru and Yusuke to follow suit in restraining Makoto. They were both trembling something fierce.

“It’s disgusting to see such riff-raff being allowed to waltz in here as they please,” said Other Haru, sticking her nose up in the air and unfolding a fan branded with Milady’s face. Her waist was cinched in a corset that made Ryuji wheeze by proxy, and her pants were now a huge skirt that took up more than half the rafter. “Look at them, no better than… better than-”

“Now, Haruka.” Other Yusuke, unsurprisingly, was the least different. His hair was a lot longer, and there were bells and prayer ribbons woven through, with a large one covering his face. “Akira says we should welcome them. It doesn’t seem like they pose much of a threat-”

“That isn’t my name, and it doesn’t matter! They-”

“Enough. That’s enough bickering.” Shadow Akira held up a hand. “They look positively ravenous already. Any more prodding and that kitty down there will lose her mind. Isn’t that right?”

“Shut up!” Ann struggled against Ryuji and elbowed him in the face more than a few times. “You shut your goddamn mouth! You’re not even the real Akira! You know nothing about us!”

“Panther, chill, you’re giving him what he wants-” Futaba grabbed her other arm and forced it behind her back. “Relax. Relax. Letting him get you all riled up isn’t going to help. We need to fall back. Everyone’s upset, and we won’t stand a chance against them in a fight right now. Make the order, Queen.”

“F… Fall back, Thieves.” Makoto said through grit teeth. “Oracle is right, as much as I hate to say it. Let’s go.”

Getting out was almost just as hard as getting in; especially with Shadow Akira’s tauntings beating down on their backs. Ryuji could see the urge to turn around and retaliate building in Ann, Makoto and Haru, and he’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t feel that urge too. 


	7. Blended

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! I changed up the formatting for the text sections for this chapter. I like this better than what I was using before, so I'm probably gonna go back to the other chapters to change them as soon as I get a chance! Oh, and sorry I haven't updated in a hot minute, haha ^^;;

> **Makoto:** Pardon my language here for a moment, but…
> 
> **Makoto:** What the hell was that.
> 
> **Ann:** Some bullshit!!! That’s what it was!!!
> 
> **Ann:** When we save Akira from all this I’m punching him in his stupid face!!!
> 
> **Haru:** Not if I get to him first… I’m not... like that, am I? A stupid rich girl?
> 
> **Yusuke:** I assure you, you’re far from it.
> 
> **Ryuji:** yeah haru ur chill
> 
> _I don’t think this is akira’s fault tho_
> 
> _at least not entirely_
> 
> **Makoto:** What do you mean, Futaba? 
> 
> _a palace is built on perception, that much is true_
> 
> _but you never know for sure what that perception means_
> 
> _even if akira’s shadow is a huge dickbag, what shadow isn’t?_
> 
> _and something about him strikes me as odd_
> 
> _we need to do more investigation first_
> 
> _mona says he agrees with me so im automatically right_
> 
> **Ann** : You do make a good point, but… it just hurts, you know?
> 
> **Ann:** Being branded like that… it feels like he doesn’t care about what makes me a Phantom Thief.
> 
> **Makoto:** Ditto. I felt like I was being mocked.
> 
> _yeah, me too_
> 
> _tbh i want to punch akira in the face for all of you_
> 
> _but we can’t be hasty, don’t forget that_
> 
> **Makoto:** But what should we do? We can’t just give up on him. That wouldn’t be fair.
> 
> **Ann:** It’s looking pretty promising, right now >:(

* * *

Futaba sat back in her chair with a sigh and a stretch, bringing one of her hands to rest behind her head. They hadn’t even gotten that far in crawling through the Palace, and yet everyone was at their limit emotionally.

“Hey, Morgana,” she mumbled. “Do Palaces amplify negative emotions for the people that go inside?”

“No, I don’t think so,” he mewled, his tail swishing in the wind. “Not unless those people allow themselves to be affected that way. You must have been thinking the same thing I was.”

“Mhm. This might be too much for everybody, but I know none of us want to give up on him. Especially not after the way he refused to give up on us.”

“Which makes sense. But this won’t go well unless you all either learn to control your emotions or learn the truth behind Akira’s perceptions of you all. And, to be honest, the former sounds much more plausible to me.”

That was easier said than done, of course. What wasn’t? Akira was supposed to be their champion. The one person who saw each Thief for who they really were. To be reduced to their core emotions, the things that caused rumors to fly… It left a sickening feeling in the pit of Futaba’s stomach. Akira wouldn’t just… demean them like that. Not without a reason. Amnesia or not, Akira just wasn’t the type of person to do that. There had to be more to it. There _had_ to be. And she wouldn’t rest until she figured out what that ‘more’ was.

> _inari. question._
> 
> **Yusuke:** Yes, Futaba? Is something troubling you?
> 
> _when you and akira would cuddle_
> 
> _or whatever you two would do in the attic_
> 
> _was there anything you two would talk about that you..._
> 
> _wouldn’t rlly share in front of everybody else?_
> 
> _fears, insecurities, stuff like that_
> 
> _from you or akira_
> 
> _i know this is out of the blue but i’m doing some detective work_
> 
> _call me discount akechi_
> 
> **Yusuke:** Hmm… Allow me a moment to think.
> 
> **Yusuke:** I do remember Akira mentioning to me how he was concerned about putting everyone in danger.
> 
> **Yusuke:** He had woken up from a nightmare, begging for my forgiveness for pulling me into the group.
> 
> **Yusuke:** And he mentioned how sometimes he worries that he’s not protecting me from my faults, sometimes. 
> 
> **Yusuke:** I was not and still am not quite sure what that means. I hope that was helpful.
> 
> _that was gr8 you’re a blessing inari_
> 
> **Yusuke:** I am glad to hear it. I’d stay to ask what wheels are turning in your head, but I have something I must attend to.
> 
> _it’s all good i totally get you_
> 
> _i have other people to ask anyway_

* * *

> _ann_
> 
> _can i bother you for a sec_
> 
> **Ann:** Sure! What’s on your mind?
> 
> _i know you probably don’t wanna think about him right now_
> 
> _but i need to know if you and akira have ever had any serious convos_
> 
> _like, about what you’re scared of or insecure about_
> 
> _from your end or his_
> 
> _i’m trying to make sense of something_
> 
> **Ann:** Ohhh, gotcha.
> 
> **Ann:** He did mention something about falling short of protecting me from being messed with?
> 
> **Ann:** Whatever he was talking about, he was really guilty about it
> 
> **Ann:** We were on the phone after… Madarame’s Palace, I think?
> 
> **Ann:** I didn’t really get what he meant so I can’t really remember what he said…
> 
> **Ann:** Sorry if that doesn’t help you much :( 
> 
> _no that’s great thank you_
> 
> _your contribution to my investigation will be valued and revered_

* * *

Futaba continued on in this manner, surveying each of the Thieves on their personal encounters with Akira. What she had found was a goldmine.

Ryuji and Akira had had a long conversation about their delinquent statuses and how that had ruined them. Ann had talked about being harassed with him. Yusuke comforted him through his worries about naivety. Makoto debated with him about her insistence on following the rules. Haru had a deep albeit brief conversation with him about her wealth. And of course, there was his constant attempts to get herself out of the house, out of her dusty room and into somewhere more enriching. Not to mention her bluntness. 

Every Thief had a fault. A fault that Akira was worried about, and had brought up to them. And obviously, those faults were being amplified in their Shadow selves. But why? It was the one thing Futaba couldn’t piece together. If Akira was trying to protect them from their faults, then why did his cognition amplify them the way it did? And what was _his_ fault? Futaba shooed away the obvious answer of his pride. Akira took his cockiness and used it to his advantage. It was more a virtue than anything. It wasn’t his anxiety, either, otherwise it would manifest in his Shadow. No matter how hard she thought, she couldn’t draw any of the conclusions that she wanted. Everything was connected, but there was one thread she was missing to stitch it all together.

“Whatever.” she groaned, flopping onto her bed. “Oi, cat? Do you have anything to add to my investigation?”

“No. But you make a very good investigator. Maybe you’re the third coming of the Detective Prince?” Morgana snickered. “And I’m not a cat, you know that better than anybody!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, kitty. But there’s just something that doesn’t sit right… It feels like it’s right there in my grasp, but when I try to reach out to it, it vanishes.”

“Maybe there’s a piece you’re missing. Besides everyone’s personal experiences, is there anything that could help you piece together Akira’s behavior?”

“Morgana, you’re a _genius_!”

Futaba rolled up to her computer, booting it up with her foot on her way up. The glow surrounded her like a full body halo, basking her epiphany in a light that felt warm and cold all at the same time. She then brought up all the footage she had from Leblanc from when Akira first arrived to the last time he was there before the accident, rewinding and rerewinding over and over and over again. Every meeting, every conversation, every interaction in that attic flashed before her eyes. The phone call with Ann. The nightmare’s aftermath with Yusuke. Her own bickerings with him. Even a conversation with Sojiro that she’d have to ask him about later. All of it was there. And she grinned.

Going over the footage from the Thieves’ stories that she could didn’t yield much. She did get more precise wording on what Akira had said to them, which helped, but it wasn’t what she was looking for. She flagged any night he lay awake, especially those where the glow of his phone wasn’t able to be seen. He must have been thinking about something, especially with Morgana’s oppressive sleep schedule. 

One night in particular stuck out to her. It was around three in the morning, and Akira had been awake, following a trend spanning the past two nights. He had let out a frustrated groan and got up out of bed, sitting at the little desk in the attic and flicking on the light. After taking a glance over his shoulder at Morgana, he pulled a small journal from out of one of the drawers of the desk and began to flip through it. It was filled with little scribbles and notes that Futaba couldn’t make out from where her camera was placed. No matter, though. That was the key to her finishing her investigation. She absolutely had to get her hands on that journal. 

Maybe she’ll have that conversation with Sojiro a little sooner than she had expected.


	8. Splattered

Sojiro found himself in observance of the next meeting that happened; since Akira’s friends were working towards a solution for his sake, he allowed them to stay in the cafe to plan rather than forcing them to take things upstairs to the stuffy attic that was full of reminders of him. He knew as well as anyone that it was hard for all of them to be up there without him, so the least he could do was offer them the solace of another space, a hot meal to go with it, and his own silence to let them focus.

Of course, even if he stayed in his place and didn’t contribute, that didn’t mean he wasn’t paying attention to the meeting itself. The kids were smart as whips, he had to give them that; he just wished that sorrow didn’t have to be their catalyst. They all were doing their best to manage, but even Sojiro could see the bags under their eyes and the sluggish way in which they went through the motions. None of them were happy about having to do this.

And could you blame them? Sojiro was the furthest from happy that a man could get. He was the boy’s caretaker, and yet he couldn’t even look after him properly. Sojiro could have done something if this whole business was related to Akira being a Phantom Thief. But it wasn’t, and it made him feel stuck. How was he supposed to explain this to his parents? Should he even bother? Would they even care? They trusted him with Akira’s care, but… the longer he thought about it, the more it felt like they just dumped the boy on him because they didn’t want to be associated with him. They hadn’t called him, or come to visit, or anything. They just dumped him in Tokyo and forgot about him. Like an unwanted alley cat.

It felt like Futaba all over again, which hurt more than Sojiro would have imagined. Akira had the kindest heart he’d ever seen, and though his record wasn’t the cleanest, that didn’t matter in the end. At the most fundamental level, he was a boy with a big heart who was tired of the system falling short in front of him. Sojiro couldn’t fault him for doing the things he did. Just like how he couldn’t fault Futaba for locking herself away from humanity. 

He didn’t notice that he was all wrapped up in his thoughts until he heard the bells above the door tinkle quietly. Glancing up from the glass he’d been cleaning for the past five minutes, he found that everyone had almost dispersed already. The blonde boy and girl had lingered behind for a moment to chat with the blue-haired one, but he didn’t look up for much conversation. Futaba sat with them, but she wasn’t paying attention to what they were saying at all. In fact, she was looking right at Sojiro, grinning all the while.

She excused herself from the booth and walked up to him, hands behind her back. What was that kid up to?

“Sojiro? I need to ask you for a favor. It’s about Akira,” she said, obviously trying to be casual. “I’ve been doing some digging to find stuff that’ll help us, and there’s this journal he keeps in his room. I figured you’d know where it is since you probably gave it to him.”

“You want  _ what _ ?” Sojiro rubbed his temples. Of course, it was nothing good. “Look, Futaba, I get that you’re trying to help, but… I can’t give you that.”

Offering them his space was one thing. Snooping through Akira’s personal belongings was something entirely different. The whole purpose of that journal was for the kid to be able to share his thoughts and feelings privately. To work through his probation with an outlet. Akira already barely trusted Sojiro before this whole incident; finding out that he had gone through his things even for the ‘greater good’ would just widen the gap between them even more. He couldn’t let that happen. Not at a delicate time like this.

“C’mon, Sojiro, he doesn’t have to know! We need this!”

“I understand that, Futaba, but I just… I don’t feel comfortable with it. I know you’re trying to help and get this fixed, but I don’t want to go through his things. It’s not fair to him.”

“Alright, alright.” she sighed. “I’m sorry for pushing it. I understand.”

Soon enough she had her nose buried in her phone, typing away in a flurry that very obviously conveyed her annoyance. It made Sojiro feel bad, but the idea of pushing Akira away during this whole thing made him feel even worse. He had to stay firm. Even if Futaba was mad at him for a while, he had to. For Akira’s sake. 

* * *

“Good morning, Sakura-san.”

The blue-haired one (Yusuke? Was that his name?) came by early the next morning, the bags under his eyes dark and prominent. Worse for wear was an understatement for how he looked; the poor boy looked half dead. But show up he did, and Sojiro welcomed him anyway.

“Hey. Need somethin’? A coffee, maybe?” he pulled a cup from under the bar, almost as a query. An  _ ‘are you alright’ _ that was more action than words.

“I cannot afford it. But thank you for the offer.” Yusuke set down a sketchbook and began to pencil in lines erratically. “Besides, I don’t-”

“Don’t worry about the price. You’re always welcome here.” 

As Sojiro poured his coffee, he could see just the faintest inkling of relief crawl across his face. It made him happy to see. From what he could tell, he was the most burdened out of Akira’s entire friend group; and the worst part about it was that he wasn’t willing to let it out. He always bottled it up, and after it kept building and building and building, his grief would pop, and he’d crash just like he has now.

“...Thank you, Sakura-san,” he sighed. “Sorry, Sakura-san.”

“What’re you apologizing for, kid?” Sojiro plates some curry, still warm from being just cooked this morning. He’d gotten so ingrained into the habit of making breakfast for Akira that it just became a staple of his routine. “You gotta learn to let yourself rely on people. You can’t do everything by yourself. Go on, eat up. I know you don’t really… yeah. Just eat.”

“Your kindness knows no bounds. I appreciate it, however… I feel undeserving. Is that selfish? To believe oneself to not be worthy of help?”

“I wouldn’t call it… selfish, I guess…? You’re just… you’re grieving. Y’know? Um…”

A silence settled over them, and it damn sure wasn’t a comfortable one. Sojiro didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t going to say anything; that is until he noticed the fat tears rolling down the blue-haired boy’s face. They started off slow but began to pick up and gain company with sniffles and gasps. It was heartbreaking to see.

“I feel completely responsible for his condition. I… I  _ can't _ get the image of his face out of my mind. The way he  _ looked _ at me,” he let out a small wail, shattering Sojiro’s heart even further. “Even being seen as an  _ annoyance _ to him... I... I'm sure even you resent me-"

“Resent you? No, kid, I-”

“Excuse me. I must go.” 

The boy rose and stood suddenly, his chair clattering behind him as he pushed through the doors of Leblanc. The bell rang hollowly in Sojiro’s heart. Great. He should have just kept his big fat mouth shut. Just like he always does. It probably would have helped more than his half-assed attempt at comfort. The half-drunk coffee and almost untouched curry made his stomach turn to look at. He put out his out-to-lunch sign and slowly surmounted the stairs in the back of the cafe, rising into the attic for the first time in all too long.

The attic wasn’t really much other than glorified storage space, and yet the kid had dressed it up nicely. It almost felt homely, with the lights strung on the rafters and the books and games stacked in haphazard piles on the floor. Somehow, Akira squeezed a TV and game system in here, not to mention the desk and things squeezed on the tiny shelves that Sojiro had given him. It was relieving to see him own this space, despite its size and stuffiness. 

Sitting at the head of his attention, however, was the journal he’d given him at the beginning of the year, sitting almost tantalizingly on Akira’s futon. Just looking at it made thoughts of Futaba cross his mind. Uncertainty crept up onto his mind, intermingling with his guilt over Yusuke and his desire to  _ actually  _ help. Not just offer his space or his time, but actual, real-life help. This was his perfect chance to prove he cared.

Sojiro picked up the journal, weighing it in his hands along with his options. He really wanted to read it. Really,  _ really _ wanted to. It wouldn’t hurt, would it? It was out in the open, and Akira would never have to know, and-

No, he couldn’t do that. It wouldn’t be right. Staunching the temptation, he slipped the book into the pocket of his apron, smiling a little as he did. Futaba would kill him for leading her around, but she’d live. And maybe, just maybe, they’d come to a breakthrough. Sojiro didn’t quite know what the kids were up to, but he trusted them. Maybe this was just a gear in their master Theif plan. He chuckled at the thought, and trooped back downstairs, his mind at least somewhat clearer and more at ease.

* * *

FInding the journal outside her bedroom door was a welcome surprise for Futaba, but the note on top piqued her interest even more.

_ ‘I thought about it and decided that I’d help. Change the kid’s heart, or whatever you kids do. I’m counting on you. Make me proud. You owe me one. -S’ _

She smiled. Leave it to Sojiro to come in clutch, even when he didn’t want to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, I'm back! Well, less I'm back, and more Watercolor Heart is back. I've been super busy with college shit so I haven't had much time to write big stuff as of late ;w; (hence Roll Back the Log happening) but things have slowed down since I've gotten onto campus, so expect some updates from me!! They won't always be consistent (when have they ever been, haha) but they'll definitely be a thing!!!


	9. Inverted

“So I did some research.”

Futaba calling a meeting was one thing; Ann was used to her being a quiet influence over the group. Futaba _leading_ the meeting was a whole different beast entirely. She exuded a sort of confidence that was shocking, and it made Ann fixate on her every word. 

“Remember how last time we went into Akira’s Palace, we all were overblown caricatures of ourselves? I’m sure you all do, we were all there.” she set down a stack of papers as she talked. “There’s a reason for that. If you’ll all take the sheet with your picture on it, I’ll explain further.”

Ann leafed through the stack first, looking for her familiar blonde pigtails amongst the sea of words that she saw. Plucking her designated paper from the pile, she found that it was a detailed outline of her personality, down to speculation on why she styled her hair the way she did. If it had been from any other person, she would have been creeped out beyond measure; but Futaba always had a method behind her madness, so Ann had learned to trust her processes no matter how strange they were. She felt as though she still had a piece missing, though. Something wasn’t clicking in her head like it was for everyone else.

“This is… Oddly in depth, Futaba,” Yusuke mused, eyes widening a bit as he read. “How did you get all this information?”

“That’s the thing, Inari. I didn’t.” Futaba grinned like a madman, slamming a small book onto the table. “Akira did. This, my dear Thief friends, is the culmination of Akira’s probation journal, and the truth behind his cognition. This is why Akira’s Shadow looks at us the way he does.”

“Futaba’s been slaving over this for days, and I must say it’s pretty good work,” added Morgana. “Given this information, I’m thinking that we should go back in today.”

“Hold on.” Ann held a hand up, eyes still scanning the paper to make sure she had gleaned everything. “I… I don’t get it. I don’t get what this has to do with Akira’s cognition of us. From what I can tell this is just an outline of who we are, and it isn’t connected to what we saw or heard.”

“Oh, shit, I forgot to explain that part. Morgana gets it ‘cause he’s heard me complain about it for hours at a time.” Futaba shook her head and chuckled. “So, basically, Akira has this tendency to fixate on one part of everyone’s personality, and it makes him worry. For you, Ann, it’s how people tend to look at you for your body only. For me, it’s how mean I can be to people, and so on and so forth.”

Ann sighed and set her paper facedown, shaking her head. Having it all put into perspective was nice, but it still made her sick to her stomach. She could handle herself, couldn’t she? Nobody really said anything to her anymore, and sure there were the occasional creeps and weirdos, but that didn’t mean she was constantly under threat. That was just what living in the city was like. Not to mention how she had started to distance herself from people in the name of secrecy. Akira knew this better than anybody. It made Ann’s head hurt to think about.

“I think I understand better, but…” Makoto put a voice to Ann’s thoughts. “I don’t think going in to investigate further would be a bad idea either. Shall we go, Thieves?”

A few half hearted ‘yes’s echoed through the room, but died out as quickly as they flared up, leaving a burdening silence to lay thickly amongst the group.

* * *

The theatre was slightly less imposing this time, and the Other Thieves were nowhere to be found. It made things slightly easier, but not all that much. Ann and the others still had the dilapidated architecture of the place to worry about, and there were too many times that she had stepped on a floorboard and almost fell through. She’d gotten all manners of splinters and nails in her hands and feet, and exhausted didn’t even begin to describe how she felt. 

Surprisingly, other than their counterparts, there weren’t many Shadows trapezing around the theatre. There were a few ‘ushers’, but they weren’t necessarily hostile; quite the contrary, actually. Most of them were blocking off areas they couldn’t even get to, but one was standing in front of a pair of double doors that clearly lead to the next area, shadowed by a bright marquee that read ‘The Tragedy of Kurusu Akira, Act I’.”

“Tickets, please!” The Shadow barked, standing up firmer and taller at their approach. “No ticket, no entry!”

“Ticket? What are you talkin’ about? Either get out of our way or we’ll make you get out of our way,” Ryuji snarled. “We don’t got time for this shit.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I cannot allow you to enter without a ticket, sir!” it replied, unwavering. “Monsieur Kurusu would have my head!”

“We’ll have your head in a minute, you son of a-”

“Skull, _wait_.” Ann grabbed his ear and pulled him back. “If we cause a ruckus it’ll make the security level higher. Let’s just find the ticket so we can get past, okay?”

He grumbled a little at her suggestion, but ended up nodding, much to her relief. Truth be told, Ann was terrified of meeting Akira’s Shadow again. He was so different, so imposing, so… wrong, and it made chills play down her spine every time she thought about it. He was nothing like the Akira she considered one of her best and closest friends. Whatever she could do to avoid him, Ann would. And it all started with finding that ticket.

It wasn’t as hard as they had expected; a particularly unruly Shadow usher in the box office area of the theatre dropped it after they had beat it into the ground. The ticket was a yellowed, ratty old thing, and the faded lettering on it matched the marquee they had seen down to the act number. They gave it to the shadow without much gusto, prompting it to simply nod and open the doors behind it. 

If the lobby of the theatre was worn down and old, then the auditorium was its antithesis. Rows and rows of plush black chairs surrounded a large wooden stage, and drawn along the length of said stage were thick velvet curtains the color of a fine red wine. Ann craned her neck up, trying to drink it all in. There were more seats lining the walls in little balconies, and she could just barely make out the thin lines of catwalks above her. The walkways in between the rows of seats were carpeted, and there was a thin golden stripe down the middle seemingly leading to something important. The Thieves were drawn to follow it, and it led to seven golden seats at the very front. Each one was carefully labeled with their code names in thin, loopy handwriting.

“I guess we’re meant to sit?” Haru tilted her head as she spoke. “I’m just unsure if I want to. This might be a very obvious trap.”

“Well, if it _is_ a trap, I’m gonna fall right for it. I’m beat, and these chairs look comfortable as hell.” Futaba plopped herself into the chair marked with her name, tossing the card aside. 

Ann waited with bated breath for something to go wrong with Futaba’s chair, but as the seconds ticked by and nothing happened, she sat, prompting the others to do so as well. The chairs were absolutely as comfortable as they looked, and she seemed to sink into the soft fabric, feeling the tension and tiredness in her body melt away.

That was, until two sets of straps locked themselves around her arms and legs, trapping her in the chair just as she expected. The others were soon strapped in as well, struggling against their bonds in ignorance of its futility. As they sat and wiggled and squirmed, the lights in the auditorium began to dim and the curtains drew back, revealing a carefully painted set.

“This is the Tragedy of Kurusu Akira, a play in three acts!” someone spoke; but no matter where Ann looked they were nowhere to be found. “Act the First: The Woes of Childhood!”

There was a little house, with a nice front yard, and the spotlight was shining on a paper doll couple. The woman had long black hair and was holding a baby, while the man had red rimmed glasses, short and curly black hair and his arm around her. Both of them had the piercing yellow eyes of Shadows. They seemed happy, until the woman spoke.

“Oh, Ryūnosuke, what will we do?” she lamented in a distorted yet theatrical voice. “Our lovely child has been born with gray eyes! Not a lovely yellow like ours. Look at how dull they are… surely he will be teased by his peers!”

“Don’t fret, my darling Mizuki.” the man replied in a commanding voice that was not unlike Akira’s. “Our boy will be strong, and tough, even in spite of his plainess. We will raise him to be so.”

“With such a heavy burden placed upon him,” the unseen narrator trilled in a singsong voice. “Would the boy ever flourish? Did he have the potential to live up to the expectations of his doting mother and imposing father? He did not know himself. And as he grew and grew and grew, those expectations grew with him, until suddenly...”

The spotlight went out for a beat, and when it had come back on, the scene had changed to a kitchen. Mizuki was standing at the sink, seemingly cooking something; and her husband was sitting at the kitchen table reading a newspaper. In big block letters, the headline read ‘ARE TODAY’S TEENAGERS GROWING OUT OF HAND?”, setting the tone as less than favorable.

A ringing sound came from offstage, prompting Mizuki to answer the phone on the kitchen wall backdrop. 

“Kurusu residence, Mizuki speaking-” she gasped, almost dropping the phone. “Our son has what?! Oh, woe is me, woe is me! Do what you must, lock him away, stone him! We are not the parents of a criminal!”

“Mizuki, my dear, what is the matter?” Ryūnosuke stood with a flourish, setting down his newspaper and dipping his wife into a dramatic dip. “Where is our son?”

“The police have picked him up! He’s assaulted some poor man! Our son, our angel, has become a demon! What shall we do, what shall we do?”

Quietly, Yusuke scoffed. “This is sickening to witness. What reason do they have to grovel when their son is alone and afraid in some holding cell somewhere?!"

“Shh, Fox, they’ve stopped being dramatic. This may be important.” Futaba glared at him in response.

“I know. We will send him away! Away he must go, away he must go!” Mizuki and Ryūnosuke chanted in time. “Away he must go!”

“Yes, yes,” the narrator echoed them. “Away he must go. The young couple plotted and schemed, trying their best to find a way to part ways with their boy who had fallen from grace. And so...”

The lights went out once more, then began to beam brightly onto a cutout of a train; behind the ‘glass’ of which sat Shadow Akira, yellow eyes turned grey and full of grief, with his palms pressed against the train’s false window.


	10. Inked

The look that Shadow Akira had on his face made Yusuke’s heart clench. It was the same look that actual Akira had given him just before he pushed Yusuke out of harm’s way. Just recalling the memory made him sick to his stomach; not to mention how Akira flinched when their eyes met. 

“Please, this is all just a misunderstanding,” said Shadow Akira in a voice that was all too small and meek. “I was protecting someone, he was going to hurt her, it’s not my fault!”

“Protecting?!” Mizuki cackled and taunted, her voice growing more distorted. “You were being a burden, just like always! Always getting in the way!”

“Not your fault? Don’t make us laugh. You’ve always been such an insolent, unruly child,” Ryūnosuke jeered. “Unruly, ungrateful, and unwilling to just stay in line!”

“Please, I… I just wanted to help…” Akira mumbled, bowing his head further.

“And in helping, you ruined everything. What will the neighbors think? What will become of your poor old parents?” the paper doll couple had begun to shift and change, turning into sketchy monstrosities before the Thieves’ eyes. “Your selfishness will forever be a black stain on our lives!”

They towered over the backdrop that Akira was behind, snarling and snapping at him in a way that was both beastly and human all at once. Yusuke was roused from his horror by the feeling of blood dripping down his chin; he’d been biting his lip so hard that it had burst. 

“We have to help him,” he snarled through grit teeth. “If I have to witness this for any longer I fear that I may not be able to control my anger.”

“So, dear Fox, you wish to intervene?” the unseen narrator purred, it’s voice making his chest stir. “I suppose that I can make it so. A true playwright allows their work to evolve, no? And I must admit, this turn of events is quite boring. Go on. All of you, go on, and make the most beautiful show!”

Their bonds snapped back into the chairs, and all of the Thieves bolted onto the stage, Yusuke leading the charge. Akira’s parents were even more imposing up close then they were from the pit, despite fundamentally being scraps of paper. Surprisingly, they went down easily despite their tough appearance and upon their defeat the floodlights of the stage flicked on, illuminating the Thieves in a triumphant yellow glow.

“Bravo, you all.” Applause sounded from offstage, presumably from that same narrator. “Bravo. Thus ends Act One. I must say, I’m quite impressed. We’ll be meeting again. After all, there are two more acts to go. I will say… Keep your guard up, Thieves. I am rooting for you.”

The voice faded away, and with it dissolved the guise of a beautiful auditorium. It had become as run down as the rest of the theatre, down to the backdrop of the play they just witnessed being torn and stained beyond recognition. Shadow Akira was still behind it, cowering and covering his face. He looked pitiful.

“Please don’t hurt me,” he whimpered. “Please, I don’t want any trouble…”

“We aren’t going to. You… are Akira’s shadow, yes?” Yusuke extended a hand to him, which he reluctantly took. “You don’t seem as belligerent as you were before, so we have no reason to attack you.”

“...Before? I think this is the first time we’ve met…” he smoothed out his ‘clothes’. “Unless you’ve encountered… him. We’re one and the same, but he doesn’t like it when I come out. It means something bad’s happened. And we don’t share memories. Not that he remembers much anyway.”

“Something bad?” said Makoto. “Like what? And what do you mean you two are ‘one and the same’?”

“Well… To put it simply, I’m the Akira that he doesn’t like to show. I’m the meeker of the two. He likes looking tough and cocky, so I’m hidden away most of the time.” this Akira sighed, rubbing the back of his head. “He calls himself Joker, although everyone else here doesn’t humor him. Sometimes he folds under the pressure, and I come out. Literally. It sounds weird, I know…”

“That explains why you look like some ‘effed up origami,” Ryuji mused. “How long d’you usually stay like this?”

“It depends… but usually not for long. I… I’ll have to go, soon. I don’t want you all to get hurt,” Akira clasps Yusuke’s hands in his papercraft ones, a hollow look glazed over his eyes. “Be careful. You guys can stay here and heal up or whatever you need to, but you shouldn’t stay for long. I… I’m sorry.”

And with that, Shadow Akira took off into the wings of the stage, melting into the darkness of it with all too much ease. Yusuke let his eyes linger on where he was for a while, desperately wishing for him to come back. It was only a taste of what they used to have, but it was enough to revive the pangs of longing that had dissipated from his chest. 

“May we turn back for today? I am truly exhausted.” Yusuke groaned, rubbing his temples. “I think we’ve made enough progress.”

Luckily for him, the other Thieves agreed; and as they slunk back to the theatre’s entrance, Yusuke devised a plan.

* * *

The longing hurt him more the second time around, weighing heavily on his soul as he stood outside Akira’s hospital room. Futaba insisted on coming with him, and she had her hand tightly clasped in his, providing Yusuke some stable ground in the sea of emotions he was drowning in.

“Inari? Are you sure you want to do this again?” she mumbled, squeezing his hand a little. “What we saw was kinda fucked up, but you don’t have to face it right now. I’m sure—“

“No, Futaba.” Yusuke bowed his head. “I need to face him for my own sake. I’ll be alright. I just need your support.”

“...I trust you. Just… don’t push yourself.”

Futaba pushed open the door, and to their surprise, Akira was still awake. He was staring out the window at the almost setting sun, the golden rays of the afternoon setting his coal black hair ablaze with dapples of light from his glasses. He jumped a little at the sound of the door, blinking away what seemed to be tears before he faced the pair standing in the doorway.

“Fox…?” he said, shaking his head as if to clear his mind. “N-No, I… I don’t know where that came from, I’m sorry. _Yusuke_ , right? You came by again. It’s nice to see you.”

Yusuke’s heart swelled with joy, causing tears to press against his own eyes with more than just a threat to spill. It wasn’t much of a memory, but it was something. It was something that he could draw hope from. The simple phrase etched itself in his heart and his mind, nestling right next to the first time Akira had said _‘I love you’_. Futaba took one glance at him and shook her head with a warm smirk, letting go of his hand and taking her usual window perch. She caught the hint better than he’d hoped.

“It’s nice to see you as well.” Yusuke let go of a shaky breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Are you holding up well? How are your injuries?”

“They’re getting better. Still on this damned IV, though.” Akira cuts him an impish grin, one that felt familiar and foreign all at once. “Keeps my mind off the other aches and pains I’ve got, though, so I guess I don’t mind. Although… there is something on my mind that’s bothering me.”

“Oh? Do share, if it isn’t too personal for you.”

“I’ve been picking up on hints that I’m not remembering everything I should be about you or your friends. I… I want to know. What am I missing? Maybe hearing it from you will help me remember.”

One step forward, two steps back. Akira’s intuition was always otherworldly, but this was beyond that. What was Yusuke supposed to say? Should he come clean and call them lovers? Disguise their relationship as just good friends? Not to mention the Phantom Thieves as a whole. Who knows what kind of trouble that could bring.

Yusuke wanted to tell Akira everything. From the beginning to the present, how they met, what he meant to him… he craved to retell their story through his own eyes. But he knew better, even though it hurt. A little lie wouldn’t hurt, would it? Once they stole his heart, he would remember the truth, and the lie would dissolve into the fissures of obscurity. It wouldn’t matter. Futaba shot Yusuke a warning glance, but he steadily ignored it, pressing on with the aid of the courage that was burning in his chest. 

“We were all just good friends with one another, brought together by unfortunate circumstances.” he said, wincing a little at the thought of demoting himself to ‘just a friend’. “Nothing more. Sorry if we caused you any worry.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie, but it still stung like one anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> crankin’ these chapters out hell yeah man. I also wanted to say thank you for all the support that this fic/au is getting! I know my update schedule is very inconsistent (and I’m working on that!!) but thanks for stickin’ with me anyway <3   
> and also, a side note: if any of my fics (this one included!) strike any inspiration in you or just get your creative juices flowin’ please please please feel free to tag me in any works you create :) I’d love to see them no matter what they are!! My socials are in my bio thingie (I think. If not they’ll be there soon) <3 Sorry for the long note. Hope this makes sense since I’m posting at 3AM, woo. Thank you for reading! -Hexi


	11. Fractured

Two weeks.

It had been two whole weeks since Akira had woken up in the hospital. He’d probably been here for longer than that, but trying to remember anything from before the day he woke up made his head spin.

Where were his parents? Why hadn’t they called? Futaba wasn’t telling him anything, Sojiro hadn’t been by to see him in ages, and the last he heard, his ‘friends’ had been avoiding him for his own sake. Akira was stuck in the dark, all by himself. It was a lonely time, one marked by a creeping cold that he couldn’t shake. The longer and longer he spent on his own, the lower and lower he began to feel. 

Today was one of the lowest days, where he could feel every pang of pain flow throughout his body alongside the crushing loneliness. His ribs still weren’t fully healed, and the doctors said his arm had broken in so many places that it’d take a long time for it to heal. Not to mention the concussion, and the amnesia, and all the other little fractures and injuries that plagued him. Needless to say, Akira wasn’t looking forward to being here for as long as he’d have to be. He couldn’t move without his muscles and bones protesting with an ache that made him shiver, so he elected to just adjust the bed instead. He wanted to see out the window. See what he was missing. Maybe he could ask a nurse to move his bed closer when they came around to check on him. 

The little peek he was able to catch left him with a longing feeling. That other boy, Yusuke; he didn’t come by often, but when he did, it made him feel whole. Seeing Yusuke made him happy. The way Yusuke talked to him made him happy. Were they really just friends before? Was Akira just projecting? Or was the solitude of the hospital room getting to him? He couldn’t tell. He didn’t know if he  _ wanted  _ to tell. 

A small part of him wished he knew for sure. A smaller part of him wished he knew  _ anything _ for sure. Trying to remember always gave him a migraine, but not remembering made his heart ache. It didn’t help that (besides his name and most of his identity) all he could remember was that Futaba and Sojiro were important to him in some vague way. They meant… something to him. It wasn’t like the others, where he couldn’t even remember their faces; they stuck out to him, and yet he couldn’t place why. It was like trying to scratch an itch he just couldn’t reach. He wrenched his eyes shut, focusing all his willpower on his locked away memories. If he could just extend a little further, think a little harder, rack his brain just a little more… 

Akira sunk into the pillows with a sigh, feeling the dull throb of his temples beat in time with his pulse. Something almost clicked. He saw a little glimpse of something. It looked like someone holding his hand, and a light that was almost blindingly bright. Maybe a snatch of a white sleeve? Or, at least, it looked white. He couldn’t tell what was real and what was his mind trying to fill in the gaps. The supplementary memories it tried to give him were usually far from pleasant, so he ignored them. This time was no different.

Suddenly, the doorknob jiggled, snapping him out of his stupor. Had visiting hours already begun? Akira could feel himself tense up at the thought, but… why?

“Kurusu-kun? Hi, how are you feeling?” a peppy voice sounded from behind the door, easing his worries somewhat. It was just Nurse Sakamoto, coming to do her rounds. “I’ve brought breakfast.”

Nurse Sakamoto was the definition of warm. She had thin black hair that barely reached shoulder length, and a smile that was slightly mischievous yet radiant all at once. Her eyes were a warm brown that reminded Akira of caramel candies, and they seemed to always be wrapped up in that smile she had. She was one of the few things that made his stay bearable.

She reminded Akira of someone, but he couldn’t quite place who. As she pushed the cart with his breakfast into his room, he couldn’t help but to stare. 

“My ribs are killing me, honestly,” he huffed, trying to tear his eyes away. “And… um, is there any way I can be moved closer to the window? I’d like to look out of it more.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, kiddo. I’ll talk to your doctor and see what they can do about increasing your morphine drip and your window problem.” she replied, peeling the blanket off him and replacing it with a fresh one. “Any changes in appetite? Or your memory?”

“I'm not really hungry today. Oh, and I almost remembered something, but I don’t know what it was for sure,” Akira sighed and attempted to return her smile. “It was less a memory and more a glimpse of something I didn’t really get. Wish I could have gotten something a little more, but my head started to hurt before I got anywhere.”

“Don’t push yourself too hard, kiddo. Your memories will come back in time, if you let them.”

Even when she chided him, her voice was gentle and kind. Somehow, Akira felt like he didn’t deserve it. Especially with how difficult he was sure he was.

“I hope so,” Akira let out a forced chuckle he didn’t even know he was holding onto. “It’s lonely, being an amnesiac.”

“I can only imagine.” She ruffles his hair a little. The gesture almost makes him short-circuit. Who? Who did she get that from? It was right on the tip of his tongue, and yet—

“Nurse Sakamoto, do you have a son?” All at once, it clicked. Disjointed memories came flooding back; an arm around his shoulders, a hand messing up his hair, a bottle blonde with warm brown eyes and a smile dotted with mischief. 

“Hmm? Yes, I do. Ryuji’s one of your friends, actually. Why, is something wrong?” Akira could almost see his face in hers, the same worried expression she was wearing echoing in his memory.

“No, nothing’s wrong. I just… I remembered him, a little,” he couldn’t hide the grin playing across his face if he tried. “You two are a lot alike.”

“Good to hear!” Nurse Sakamoto flashed him her trademark smile, increasing their likeness further. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to know that. This is a big step, Kurusu-kun. I’m very happy for you! And, thank you. Ryu hates to admit it, but he’s a momma’s boy through and through.”

Akira smiled wider, still reveling in the fact that he remembered something. He remembered something! All by himself! And it was one of his friends! While it wasn’t much, it was a start, and it had him reeling. One down, five to go. 

Some itty bitty part of him hoped Yusuke would be next. There was just something about him that appealed to Akira, and he was desperate to know what it was. That, and he was the least boisterous of the group. From what he could tell, all the rest of his friends were loud and bold; all save for Yusuke. He seemed to blend quietly into the background, and he  _ liked it that way. _ It was an enigma to Akira, for someone so remarkable to live in the limelight the way he did, especially compared to Futaba and what he could remember of Ryuji. He was the most ordinary out of all of them, and it made Akira curious.

He realized soon after that his curiosity came out of a place of loneliness too, which compounded when he noticed that Nurse Sakamoto had left. She must have noticed him get lost in thought, and slipped out while he rode the train of thoughts and memories that hit him. He probably looked stupid to her, all glassy eyed and nostalgic over memories he was barely holding on to. Akira huffed and closed his eyes again, replaying the little memories he had in his mind to drown out his own self loathing. It didn’t really help.

On her way out, she must have turned on the radio. A woman’s voice was warbling through the room, slightly muffled by the radio static. Somehow, her voice brought Akira peace. It was a bossa nova tune, and something about it was familiar. Listening to it gave him a snatch of thought; some drinks on a table, a laugh, and that same song, louder and clearer and almost tangible. Kichijoji. The name rang through his head over and over and over again. Kichijoji, Kichijoji, Kichijoji. A sketchbook, a myriad of pens and pencils, and that same laugh. All of it, familiar yet alien all at once.

Surprisingly, this memory didn’t hurt to think of. It almost felt warm. Akira could feel his chest burning as he thought, spreading heat in waves throughout his body. 

He’d have to ask Yusuke about it next time he saw him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not me having to update the tags again......... sudden Akira POV chapter bc why not? I know kichijoji is technically akechi’s confidant spot or w/e but like...... sketch studies at the jazz bar......... it’s living in my head rent free. apparently writing in comic sans helps with inspiration. this chapter is born of that miracle. thank you for reading.


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